Though the husband and I are both vegan, our culinary tastes rarely overlap. He hates everything I love, and vice versa. So dinnertime often sees us eating entirely different meals. And if the little man doesn’t care for what either of us are eating, then a third option may be thrown into the mix. It’s like we have our own short order kitchen. We’ve grown accustomed to it, so it’s usually not a problem. But last night. Oy. Most women experience a heightened sense of smell during pregnancy. So last night’s stinkfest didn’t go over very well with me. The husband made a huge batch of curry, which I’m generally a fan of. But he included large amounts of onions in it…the stench of which has permeated every square inch of our house. It was bad enough last night, but waking up to it this morning was excruciating. It invaded my nostrils in the bedroom, and increased in intensity the closer I came to the kitchen. I started gagging as I made breakfast for the little man (peanut butter and onions do not mix), and I have not been able to eat anything myself. I was contemplating all this when the little man raised his arms in the air, asking to be lifted up like a small child. He hasn’t been a small child for some time. As a matter of fact, he’s quite large for a four year-old. But I was so distracted that I hoisted him up without a second thought. That’s when something between my shoulder blades went Snap! Crackle! Pop! So you see, I have no choice but to place a ban on onion usage in this household…as onions are clearly the root of all evil.